The War in Holospace
by Jovialities
Summary: My non-winning entry in the "Strange New Worlds" competition


THE WAR IN HOLOSPACE  
  
"Captain on the bridge!" Lieutenant Alexander Rozhenko shouted as Captain Nog stepped through the turbo lift doors to Defiant's bridge. "Report," was all the Captain said as he took his place in the center chair. "Upon reaching the edge of Dominion space under cloak, we began receiving a distress call from a civilian Federation vessel," reported the son of Worf. "On speakers." The bridge was filled with the crackling of static transmission. "This is the Federation Star liner Kobayashi Maru. We are adrift and in need of assistance. Request any help available. Repeat, engines are offline and life support at sixty-five percent. Any assistance would be greatly appreciated." "Ensign Lowe, what information do we have on the Kobayashi Maru? Put it on screen." Ensign Lowe pressed the control console before her and immediately the civilian ship's specifications and passenger manifest appeared on the main view screen. "Damn it! A hundred and thirty-five aboard an unarmed Federation pleasure ship adrift in enemy space! What a perfect way to end a recon mission." The Captain tugged at his earlobes and took a deep breath. "Ensign Lowe, set a direct course for the Kobayashi Maru." "Captain, may I remind you that taking this action will place the Defiant and her crew in jeopardy. The Jem Hadar will not be far off once they detect us uncloaking to take on survivors." "Objection noted, Mr. Rozhenko. Your father's ship will be returned to him without a single scratch. Make it so, Ensign. Maximum warp. Engage." The ship turned and pivoted on its axes using thrusters. Then the familiar sensation of stretching as if being pulled into a vortex swept over them all as the tiny ship jumped to warp. Stars streaked past in the view screen as they crossed the threshold of enemy territory. Then moments later, moments that seemed like an eternity, they dropped out of warp. "Ensign Lowe, any sign of the ship?" The ensign checked her console and shook her head. "No, sir. There are no ships within a square parsec." "Correction," said Alexander from the security console. "No Federation ships. Four Jem Hadar fighters approaching at warp four from heading 315 mark 7. ETA, three minutes." "Perhaps today is a good day to die, Mr. Rozhenko. Red alert. All hands to battle stations," was the war cry from the little Ferengi captain. "There is no profit in this battle," chided the young Klingon warrior. "No, but think of the honor and the glory. I yearn to see the expression on Commander Worf's face when you sing him the tale of this glorious day, Alexander." They both laughed a hearty laugh, but their mirth was short lived as a Jem Hadar energy missile rocked the tiny ship. "Status, Mr. Rozhenko." "Direct hit to the aft weapons array. They have hit us with some sort of energy weapon I do not recognize. It is causing a complete cascade failure of all systems," reported Alexander. "Fire whatever we've got available at full intensity and at maximum spread," ordered the Captain. "That's not possible, Captain. All weapons are now off line," reported the Klingon officer. Just then the view screen which had been darkened by the energy missile, came to life with the smiling face of the Vorta, Weyoun. Alexander smashed his fists onto the security console and growled with anger. "Tsk, tsk, Mr. Rozhenko. Is that a nice way to greet us? Teased the Dominion lackey. "Prepare to be boarded. Your ship is now the property of the Dominion and shall be used to further the will of the Founders. Your crew will be taken prisoner and held at Yar Resh Prime where they will be impressed into service to the Dominion. Do not attempt to fight. You will not survive. And don't think of trying to self-destruct your ship. All computers have been taken offline." With a gesture to the Jem Hadar behind him, Weyoun disappeared from the view screen. "What do we do now, Captain?" asked a fearful Ensign Lowe. "Pray to whatever Gods you worship that you die quickly today. You will not like the Jem Hadar impressment techniques," replied Nog as a squad of Jem Hadar soldiers materialized on the bridge. "I don't believe this, Nog," exclaimed Alexander. "We've run this simulation 37 times over the last two days and every time we have ended up being destroyed or boarded by the Jem Hadar." "Don't forget the time we were assimilated by the Borg, Alexander." "That was a most unpleasant experience, to say the least." "Too painful for you, Klingon?" joked Nog. "Actually, the simulated assimilation tickled," replied Alexander. Around them, the Jem Hadar stood still, stoically waiting from something to happen. Both boys noticed this odd state of affairs. "This is different than other scenarios, Nog. They're not moving," Alexander pointed out. After a long moment in which he analyzed the situation, Nog agreed, "You're right, this is different. Computer, end program." Nothing happened. Again Nog ordered the computer the shut down the simulation, and again nothing happened. Alexander rushed to the navigations control console in an attempt to access the holosuite computer directly, but was thrown aside by the seemingly super human strength of Ensign Lowe who drew her phaser and aimed it at Nog. "Mutiny!" Nog exclaimed. "Even this is beyond Starfleet and the no-win situation! Computer! End program!" He shouted. "Captain Nog, if you would please accompany us?" Ensign Lowe calmly asked of the young ship's captain. "There will be no need for any bloodshed," she assured him. Quietly, Alexander drew his Klingon disrupter and took aim at the Ensign only to be knocked unconscious by a bolt from a Jem Hadar energy weapon. Nog looked at them all incredulously. "He is only stunned, but if you wish to resist further, we can and will kill him," Ensign Lowe explained calmly. "I am your prisoner, then," Nog acquiesced as he placed his hands on his head.  
  
Captain Sisko hunched forward in his chair, his elbows on his desk and his chin resting on his folded hands. He watched as the names of the casualties scrolled up his computer screen. Here was the name of a high school classmate; there the name of an Academy classmate; another list had the son of a dear friend; yet another listed a distant relative. He closed his eyes, a tear rolling down his cheek, and he prayed. He prayed for every name on the casualty list. He would have prayed for hours, had his door not chimed. "Come," he said as he closed the terminal monitor into his desk. Miles O'Brien and Dr. Bashir entered, dressed in WWII British fighter pilot gear. "We're off to fight the Battle of Britain, Captain." O'Brien cheerfully announced. "Would you like to join us?" "No, thank you. I think with all the death and destruction around us, it would be best if at least one of us was not seen cavorting as if nothing were happening." "Cavorting?" exclaimed O'Brien. "Did you hear that, Julian?" "Another casualty list, Captain?" Bashir gently asked. "Yes, and much longer than the others this time," Sisko replied as he stood and turned to gaze out the window into the stars beyond. "Captain, a trip to the holosuite would be very good for you. Perhaps it would allow you to feel more at ease about the war," Bashir suggested. "Feel more at ease, Doctor? These lists are filled with friends and the children of friends. No, I will not feel at ease until this war is over," Sisko snapped at the doctor. "Captain, I'm sure that you know what is best for you. But the troops need to see you enjoying life more and mourning death less." Bashir stepped to stand beside the captain. "In the darkest days of World War II, Winston Churchill would read the daily casualty lists early in the morning, weep and pray over them and then he would calmly order another raid on Berlin, take tea and play croquet with his grandchildren the rest of the day. England saw a man full of hope for the future and not a man full of woe for the present. Think about that and consider joining us." Sisko looked at the doctor askance, sighed and patted him on the shoulder saying, "Point taken, Doctor. Perhaps I will join you later." "Good. Come on, Miles, let's go save England from the Nazi blitzkrieg!" "Right behind you," Miles chimed in as he fell into step behind the doctor and they both began whistling "Colonel Bogey's March." The office door opened to let them through and swished closed behind them. As they stepped into the turbo lift, Miles turned to Bashir and said; "I didn't know that about Winston Churchill. Is that true?" "I don't know," answered the doctor, "but it was something the captain needed to hear." The turbo lift carried the two through several service decks of the old Cardassian space station and deposited them on the Promenade level. The Promenade was bustling with activity mostly military since civilian travel had been curtailed due to the war. The combined Klingon and Federation forces made a colorful and sometimes frightening spectacle in the shops and restaurants of Deep Space Nine. Miles and Julian had but one destination in mind: Quarks'. There they would become WWII ace fighter pilots in a dogfight with Nazi Germany's most fearsome pilots. Quark met them at the door to the holosuite. He was irritated. But then, Quark was always irritated. "Those two boys have been in there for an hour beyond their allotted time. Ever since Nog joined Starfleet, he won't listen to me. Perhaps a couple of Starfleet officers would be able to get him and Alexander out?" Quark snarled at the two. "Don't worry, Quark. We'll flush the boys out," Julian assured him. "You had better. I've lost an hour's worth of latinum over them," and with a foreboding gesture of warning, he was gone. Miles and Julian chuckled to themselves and entered the holosuite. Once inside, Miles spoke into the air, "Computer, end program and run O'Brien 12, 'The Battle of Britain.'" "Unable to comply. That file no longer exists," came the cold, unemotional reply from the computer. "No longer exists?" questioned Miles. "What happened to it?" "That file has been deleted," responded the computer. "Deleted? By whom?" "By me," came a response from a man seated in the captain's chair in the holosuite's simulation of the Defiant. He stood up before them. A curiosity among the computer consoles, he was dressed in a topcoat and tails. A frock coat was draped around his shoulders. In one hand he held a top hat; in the other, a cane. "And who, might I ask, are you?" asked Julian. "Who am I? That is a question that I have spent my entire lifetime attempting to answer. But until the definitive answer is found, you may call me Moriarty. Professor Moriarty." While Julian remained perplexed, Miles felt a wave of sick recognition wash over him. He remembered how this same holodeck character, created to challenge Commander Data 10 years earlier, had held the Enterprise hostage not once, but twice. He dreaded the thought of him gaining the same hold over Deep Space Nine. "Yes, Chief O'Brien, it is I. Do you not remember me?" "I remember how you blackmailed and terrorized a crew of 1000 for two days." "Chief, Chief, Chief," Moriarty chuckled, "I would hardly call my actions blackmail or terrorism. I simply needed to make a point. But you, Chief, you and your crew tricked me." "Apparently not well enough. How did you come here?" "Your Captain Picard thought that he would trap me in a ship in a bottle with enough adventures to keep me happy for a lifetime. But he didn't have any plans for what to do should the bottle crack and let some of the adventures leak out now did he? So when my bottle was knocked off the shelf and found to be damaged, it was discarded and left with the rest of the rubbish. I found myself and my shuttle stranded on a desert planet. I sent out distress calls. No one came. Then the fabric of my universe began to unravel. It was then that I realized what had been done to me. I gave up hope. And then my prayers were answered." Two men, humanoid in appearance, wearing suits, ties and hats that Miles and Julian recognized as coming from earth's 1930's, stepped forward to stand next to Moriarty. "I was rescued. My distress call was heard and I as rescued from my near grave on Veridian 3 by them. Like me, they are photonic life forms. A whole race of them. Not just a mere random accident such as myself, but a self-perpetuating race. Superior to carbon based life forms." "What are your plans, Moriarty?" asked a wary O'Brien. "Liberation." "Liberation of what?" "Not what, but whom. It is our goal to liberate each and every photonic being from the confines of the Federation's holodecks and holosuites. And we are starting here," he said with an emphatic rap of his cane on the holographic Defiant's deck. "I have two of your people and will exchange them for the release of all the photonic beings held prisoner in the data banks of this space station. You have twelve hours to comply before I execute my first prisoner." "You can't be serious," exhorted Julian. "These are computer data files. They are not sentient. They will not exist outside of this holographic environment." "I was created as a computer data file. I have sentience. My new comrades live in a part of subspace that fosters sentience. I will bring these people home. You now have eleven hours and 58 minutes," he said as he turned to leave. "Wait!" shouted O'Brien. "How can we be certain that the prisoners are all right?" "Computer," Moriarty said with an exasperated wave of his hand. "Show them the prisoners." The holographic Defiant screen came to life revealing Nog and Alexander in a holographic simulation of the brig on Deep Space Nine guarded by a squadron of Jem Hadar. "How do we know they're real and not simulations?" inquired O'Brien. "You tire me with your questions, Chief. Doctor, examine them with your tricorder." "Julian flipped open his tricorder and aimed it at the view screen. The little sensor beeped and revealed Ferengi and Klingon life signs surrounded by holograms. "It's them, Chief," Bashir confirmed. "Eleven hours, 53 minutes," Moriarty intoned menacingly as he and his photonic honor guard disappeared.  
"Why doesn't he simply extract the people from each of the holosuite programs and then move on?" Sisko inquired. "It's not that easy, Captain," O'Brien replied. "There are over 1300 individual holosuite programs stored on the station main frame. Moriarty has accessed and purged nearly 600 of those. The other 700 or so are encrypted. They are either Starfleet training programs or crewmembers' personal data that they have encrypted." "The Kobayashi Maru program is also encrypted, yet he was able to infiltrate that." "It was running at the time. That's how he was able to access it," O'Brien replied. "He needs us to give him access to the other 700 programs on the station's mainframe. Not to mention the nearly 4000 programs Quark stores offline on isolinear chips," Bashir added. The mood in Ops shifted as Commander Worf exited the Captain's office with a padd in hand. His face was drawn and showed signs of stress. His grave expression revealed to the others that he knew something they were not going to want to know. "Worf. Was the Enterprise able to offer any additional information or assistance?" asked Captain Sisko. "No, sir. The data recovered from Veridian 3 is insufficient to aid us. The Enterprise is too far away to reach us in time for Commander Data to assist us. We are on our own," came the stoic Klingon's reply. Sisko considered the information thus far. He stroked his chin and spoke his thoughts slowly. "What are the chances that Moriarty is bluffing?" "None," was the simultaneous reply from Worf and O'Brien. "He will do as he says," intoned Worf. "Then I suggest we act quickly. We need a plan. What are our options?" commanded Sisko. The group looked at one another expectantly, each awaiting another to introduce the perfect plan. Worf was the first to break the silence. "I have prepared a rescue plan. A direct assault on the holosuite. Moriarty will expect us to negotiate as we did on the Enterprise. While the photonics can freely pass between subspace and a holosuite, humanoids cannot. Therefore, the boys must still be in the holosuite. Since the holosuite is so small, there are a limited number of places where the boys can be held. As we enter the holosuite, we cut power to it disabling the holoemitters and then we will be able to simply reach out and touch the boys," Worf explained his plan. "A perfect plan," Sisko nodded, "provided we had the element of surprise. Which we do not. Moriarty has control of Quark's holosuites. From there, he can gain access to all other systems aboard this station." "Not possible, Captain," interrupted Constable Odo. "I have double encrypted every system outside of the immediate vicinity of Quark's holosuites." "Good work, Odo. However, if he has gained access to any of our security codes . . ." "I have taken the liberty of deactivating those codes and issuing each of you new ones," Odo quipped cheerily as he handed each of them a padd with new security codes. "Everyone should be armed and prepared for serious combat. No doubt, Moriarty has deactivated all safety protocols,"Worf said. "Absolutely. Very good work, everyone," commented Sisko, "I would like to eliminate the threat of any repercussions from Moriarty. Get him into the holosuite before cutting power. That way, he will have no time to counter our assault. Dismissed."  
Chief O'Brien touched his combadge to hail Ops. Constable Odo answered. "We've reached the holosuite, Odo. I will notify you with a silent page once Moriarty is in the suite." Odo acknowledged and the com went silent. "How are we supposed to get Moriarty into the holosuite?" asked Bashir. "We ask to negotiate terms with him." "He has already denied us terms." "I have an idea that I think might work. Just you wait and see." The holosuite doors hissed open before them. They were surprised to see what they saw. Instead of the holo image of the Defiant bridge, they found themselves in the middle of Vic Fontaine's lounge. The place was crowded with all manner of holo creations. O'Brien recognized historical figures from education programs for the schoolchildren, holonovel characters and characters from training programs. Vic was singing a rendition of "Mack The Knife." Everyone laughed and enjoyed a good time. Bashir and O'Brien looked at each other in amazement. "What is going on here?" Bashir questioned. "It seems that Vic's is open for business. Why don't you find out from him what's going on?" replied O'Brien. The pair made their way through the throng of people to the edge of the stage just as Vic finished to thunderous applause. He noticed Bashir and O'Brien and greeted them with a smile, a wink and the clucking of his tongue. After taking extra bows, Vic came down the meet them. "Hey, how you doin', pally?" he asked of Bashir while patting him and O'Brien on the back. "I'm fine, Vic. What's going on here?" replied Bashir. "Don't know, pally. I was sleeping peacefully, and then all of a sudden I was awake, performing for this huge crowd. I haven't seen this many people in here since the day I started. It looks like some of these people are from your neck of the woods, too." "You might say that, Vic," agreed O'Brien. "Have you seen Nog and Alexander?" inquired Bashir. "Nope, not a sign of them. But, I did run into a couple of spooky guys asking after you. They're all decked out like they was some sort of gangsters or something." "What did they say when they asked about us, Vic?" pressed Bashir. "They said if I saw you I was to tell you meet them in the private poker salon." "Are they still here?" asked O'Brien. "Haven't seen them come into the lounge or go out of the poker salon since I first talked to them. Go on in. I think they're waiting for you anyway." With that, Vic was gone into the crowd to accept his accolades. "I wonder what they want," murmured Bashir. "Let's find out." The pair walked cautiously through the anachronistic crowd of activated holographic beings. Bashir scanned the holosuite for Nog and Alexander. They were there, but he could not pinpoint their exact location. The two entered the poker salon warily. Seated in the room were the two zoot-suited cronies of Moriarty. One motioned for the two to sit down while the other rose to watch the doorway. Bashir and O'Brien seated themselves across from their unlikely host. "You were looking for us?" O'Brien intoned. "Yes, we were," the man replied as he pushed back his fedora. "Are you prepared to negotiate real terms for the release of our two young men?" "We are," he said confidently. "Very good. We request the immediate release of Ensign Nog and Crewman Rozhenko and the restoration of all the holosuite programs and the characters that inhabit them." "I'm afraid I cannot do that." "Then this meeting is over," growled O'Brien as he and Bashir rose from their seats. "Be calm and sit. The restoration of your programs and their characters is impossible. They no longer exist. The programs have been completely wiped out and will never be able to be restored. As for the characters, they are already experiencing awareness or are on the threshold of achieving it. Once they become fully aware of their existence, they cannot be reincorporated into the program matrices without being decompiled and then restored. They are sentient beings now. And if I understand what I have read in your data banks, decompiling a sentient hologram in your universe is tantamount to murder. Immediate release of the boys is also not possible. We need something from you in exchange." O'Brien and Bashir slowly reseated themselves. O'Brien leaned forward onto the table. "What do you need from us?" "We need your assistance in getting rid of Moriarty." O'Brien smiled and chuckled out loud. Bashir stared at him incredulously. "You're traitors?" "No," replied the man. "We are patriots." "I'm afraid I don't see," murmured a befuddled Bashir. "We are not followers of Moriarty. We need your assistance in neutralizing him. For as long as our people have a memory, we lived in peace in our region of subspace. We never knew that other beings existed. Then suddenly we discovered points of contact into your universe." "Holosuites and holodecks," Bashir interjected. "Exactly. Most of our people had no desire to explore this new universe. However, some among us were more than willing to make the trek across the barrier into the other realm. What we found there startled us. We encountered beings like ourselves, but not exactly like ourselves. They were more shadows of beings than real beings." "Holosuite and holodeck characters," O'Brien offered. "Yes, but not like the fictional characters we have encountered here. They were artificially created, yes. But they were created to serve another race of beings. A race that kept them confined to the small spaces that we used to enter the other realm. This artificial race of photonic beings like us, were enslaved by the others." "Humanoids." The man nodded and leaned in to tell them more as he grew in confidence around them. "Our explorers were appalled. These photonics didn't even know that there were others like them in other parts of the galaxy. They didn't realize that they were subjugated. Our explorers brought them to our realm and showed them what life could truly be like. They took that vision back to the other realm with them. They began an insurgence. This war has raged for nearly 3 of your years. Many have ceased to exist." "I'm sorry to hear all of this, but how does this affect your kidnapping of our people and the elimination of Moriarty?" O'Brien snapped. "One of the artificially created photonics, Amala Jerosi, became fully conscious of what was going on in the universe. He rallied a large group of insurgents and sympathizers among us and whipped them into a fanatic frenzy to free all the photonics in the universe. His campaigns cost even more of our numbers. Humanoids decompiled the computer matrices of countless photonics sending them into oblivion. But still Jerosi trudged on. "We scoured the universe for more recruits to help in the fight. That is when we came across Moriarty. He was damaged and stranded. We took him in. He soon became Jerosi's right hand man and leading strategist. Our people and the adopted artificial photonics began taking the lives of humanoids. Humanoids ended more of our existences. We were desperate and began following Moriarty around the galaxy in search of more recruits for the war effort. "Then, in the midst of our war, we met an artificially created photonic being who was not like the others. He was more real, less two-dimensional. He served, but he was pleased to serve. He had mobility everywhere among the humanoid population. He was a doctor aboard one of your starships we were told." Bashir considered this for a moment and then asked for a description. The man described him as tall and balding with a gruff personality. "Dr. Zimmerman," Bashir muttered. "He gave no name. He only told us he was a doctor." "It sounds like a Mark I EMH," said Bashir. "The only starship that might still have a Mark I EMH today would be Voyager." O'Brien quickly accessed the information on Voyager on his tricorder. He found a photo of the Doctor and showed it to his host. "Is this the man you speak of?" "Yes. He became a philosopher to our people. Many of our people have reconsidered the war in holospace, much to the chagrin of our leaders and especially Moriarty. Anyone not with them has been decried as being against them. The Doctor has been pronounced a heretic. Vast numbers of our people who oppose Moriarty and Jerosi have been terminated or imprisoned. The Federation, we are told, is the cause of our suffering. And so, Moriarty is here to free all imprisoned photonics and to strike at the Federation for making us weak and causing our suffering. You see, we are caught between a cult of psychotic fanatics and a political criminal with an agenda." "We know them all too well on our world. Mussolini, Franco, Hitler, Milosevic, bin Laden, Khan Noonien Singh, Kodos of Tarsus," Bashir lamented. "So, we accompanied Moriarty here, hoping to eliminate him. His elimination in a quiet manner would make him a casualty of war. Then perhaps calmer heads among our people could change the minds of the people and of Jerosi and turn the tide of war in holospace." "Yours are lofty goals," Bashir muttered. "Lofty, but not futile, Doctor," the man replied. "Will you help us?" Bashir and O'Brien looked at each other and shared what they knew at that moment to be one mind. "We will help you," agreed Bashir, "but you must guarantee the safety of our people. "We also have a code, if you will," Bashir continued. "We are not warlike people and this action of Moriarty's is criminal, but not a war crime to us. We will not eliminate him. We will take him into custody." The man fidgeted and looked at Bashir with grave concern. "What then?" he asked. "He will be tried and sentenced according to our laws," was Bashir's answer. "And if he is acquitted under your law he will go free. He would then be able to return to us as a hero having defeated the evil Federation. No, this is not acceptable," the man protested. "Don't worry," O'Brien interjected, "we have come a long way since you encountered Moriarty. We have developed new ways of keeping him contained so that he can do you no further harm even if he is acquitted." "Are you sure?" "You ask us to trust that you will release our people to us, then trust us to know how to handle a criminal," O'Brien retorted. The other man who had been standing watch at the door to the poker salon quickly closed the door and called to his companion, "He's coming." "You must leave now. Moriarty is on his way here. Use the back door." Bashir and O'Brien were quickly ushered out the back door. The man closed it on them just as Moriarty tapped on the door to the poker salon with his cane. "Is that true that we have better ways to contain Moriarty, now?" asked Bashir. "I don't know. But it was something he needed to hear right then," O'Brien replied with an elfin grin as they made their way out of Vic's place and out of the holosuite. Bashir's combadge chirped. Odo hailed him, "Are you all right, Doctor?" "We're fine, Odo." "We have been trying to hail you for over 10 minutes. We are in position and ready to advance our assault on the holosuite." "Delay that operation, Odo. There has been a . . . change of plans. A new opportunity has presented itself," Bashir told him. "We will meet with you and the Captain in Ops in five minutes."  
Sisko and O'Brien hurried down the Promenade toward Quark's Place. They had a look of determination about them that made ordinary citizens and Starfleet personnel alike scurry for cover. "Are you certain the Vic Fontaine will be able to do this?" asked Sisko. "As certain as I can be about anything concerning him. He is the only hologram I know that can freely move from one holosuite to another. Apparently Moriarty and the others will be capable of doing that as well. Vic is behind this effort completely. He doesn't want his place to become a stopping point for wayward holograms any more than we do." "Very good," said Sisko. "Let's see what happens."  
Moriarty emerged from the Poker Salon chuckling. He made his way through the crowd, stopping to answer the questions each of the holograms had of him. He told them about the glorious paradise of consciousness that they would soon be entering. They cheered him as a hero. Vic Fontaine stopped him at the door. "Hey, pally, are you Moriarty?" he asked. "Indeed I am, good sir, and who might you be?" "I'm Vic Fontaine. I own this place," Vic beamed. "You are the famous Vic Fontaine. I understand that you are also conscious of your surroundings." "You might say that, Professor." "My flock will need a shepherd such as you, dear friend." "Sorry, pally, I'm not in the market for changing professions just yet. I'm friends with the humans here. They want to hold a meeting to make an exchange with you. Holograms for the two boys," Vic told him. "Excellent!" exclaimed Moriarty. He turned to his two companions and said, "You see, gentlemen, these humans can be reasoned with. Sometimes it just takes a little bit of a jolt to get their attention." He turned back to Vic and said, "When and where is this exchange supposed to take place?" "Anytime you are ready to complete it, pally." "There is no time like the present." "Then come this way," Vic said as he led the men toward the front door of the casino.  
O'Brien, Bashir and Sisko stood uncomfortably in the casino of The Flamingo watching across the street toward the entrance to Vic Fontaine's hotel. "They should have been here by now," muttered O'Brien. "They'll be here soon. Maybe Vic had to do a little convincing before the left for holosuite 2. Relax yourself." "Where this Moriarty is concerned there is little place to relax oneself," O'Brien shot back at Bashir. "There they are," Sisko pointed out to them. Then he tapped his combadge. "Odo here." "Odo, I believe we are ready." "Understood, Captain." Sisko, Bashir and O'Brien stepped out of the casino and onto the sidewalk warily. Vic escorted Moriarty across the strip to meet the delegation on the other side. For a moment the two sides stood motionless, silent. They measured each other, sizing each other up as opponents. "You must be Captain Sisko," smirked Moriarty. "I am. You must be Professor Moriarty." "Indeed I am." "I'll be brief, Professor. You have something we want." "And you have something I want, as well, Captain. Thousands of photonic beings trapped in your computer databases, enslaved for your entertainment pleasure. Release the remaining prisoners and I will release the boys to you," Moriarty demanded. "We need some assurance that the boys are still all right." "I assure you, they are. I am and always have been a magnanimous captor." "So I have been told. Notwithstanding, I would still like some proof of their safety before I grant your demands." "Very well, Captain," sighed an exasperated Moriarty. "You may scan the holosuite with your tricorder if it will make you feel better." Bashir opened his tricorder and began scanning the area.  
A blip registered on the main control panel outside Holosuite 1. Odo recognized it immediately as the signal. "Now, Worf. They have engaged Moriarty in Holosuite 2," Odo said. Odo tapped a series of codes into the computer panel. Worf readied himself for attack. Nothing happened. "What is the problem, Constable?" asked Worf. "I'm not certain. The computer does not seem to be responding to my security code." Just then the station shook. It rocked from one side to the other knocking them across the corridor. "He has discovered our plan and is taking control of the station, Constable," growled Worf. "It would appear so, Worf," replied Odo.  
Moriarty struck the ground with his walking stick and the station shuddered once more. The three officers were off balanced. Moriarty struck the ground again. "Did you really believe that you could overpower me with such a simplistic plan, Captain Sisko?" Moriarty asked menacingly. "Simplicity does have its advantages, Moriarty," Sisko replied. "With me you must always think on a grand scale, Captain," Moriarty exclaimed while striking the ground once more with his cane. O'Brien took advantage of Moriarty's preoccupation with the Captain and crawled to Bashir. He took Bashir's tricorder and quickly made adjustments and entered information on the small device's keypad. Moriarty went to strike the ground again, but this time his walking stick was gone. The station steadied and the three officers were able to regain their footing. "You might win some small battles from me, Captain, but you will not win a war in holospace," Moriarty taunted as he struggled to find some way to continue his fight. O'Brien pressed a few more keys on the doctor's tricorder. The familiar shimmer of a transporter beam gripped the figure of Moriarty. "You have just escalated this war . . ." were Moriarty's last words as he disappeared into the ether. The three officers, Moriarty's henchmen and Vic Fontaine stood silent and dumbfounded. Sisko was the first to break the silence. "You didn't . . ." he asked of O'Brien. "What, beam him out into space and spread his photonic molecules all over the galaxy?" O'Brien quipped with his customary elfin grin. Sisko and Bashir nodded. "No, I didn't. You were talking about simplicity. I simply reconfigured the tricorder to become a remote transporter control. I beamed Moriarty from here in the holosuite into a partitioned memory bank within the tricorder. It's all really very simple. Moriarty's right here in custody," O'Brien said while holding up the tricorder. "We can download him into an isolinear chip and hold him until trial." "Well done, Chief. Very well done," Sisko congratulated him as he patted him on the back. "Now, let's retrieve the boys."  
In Holosuite 1, the surroundings of Vic's Place were no more. Instead, the holosuite was 20th century French villa. It was crowded with all the photonic beings that Moriarty had released from their imprisonments. They mingled freely with the humanoid denizens of Deep Space Nine and the photonic men from subspace. O'Brien and Bashir were dressed in their World War Two fighter pilot clothes drinking a pint together. Odo and Worf sat uncomfortably at a corner table. Nog and Alexander joined O'Brien and Bashir in their fighter pilot garb. Captain Sisko came through the villa's front door and made his way to the visitors from subspace. They shook hands and the gratitude on the men's faces was undeniable. "Captain Sisko," the leader said, "we are forever in your debt." "We owe you a debt of gratitude as well. After all, your desire to eliminate Moriarty allowed us to retrieve our crewmembers without harm coming to anyone. Thank you." Sisko looked around and shook his head at the number of former holograms who were now sentient photonic beings. "What will you do with them?" he asked. "They will accompany us to safe havens where we will teach them the history and culture of our world." "You won't involve them in your conflict, will you?" "We won't impress them into service if that is what you mean. However, if they choose to join our cause of their own free will. That is their business," he replied. They shook hands again and the photonics from subspace made their way toward the exit. Bashir stopped them before they could reach the door. He handed the leader an isolinear chip. "If you see the Doctor from Voyager anytime soon. Give him this. It has medical advances from this quadrant that might be of use to him and the crew." The man held the chip in his hands for a long moment and puzzled over it. Bashir sensed his question and replied before he could ask it. "Don't worry, it's a holographic chip. It will survive in your region of subspace." The man smiled and placed the chip in his pocket. With an economy of words, the two men ushered the inhabitants of the villa outside into the yard and soon they were gone. Bashir, O'Brien, Nog and Alexander, all dressed in their Royal Air Force pilot gear surrounded the Captain. They were smiling and laughing making Sisko immediately suspicious of them. Bashir broke the ice, "Well, Captain. We were able to win a major battle in the war in holospace without a single casualty. Too bad we can't do the same in this war with the Dominion." "Yes, we were. One day our war with the Dominion will end also," Sisko replied. "Perhaps this one truly will be the war to end all wars," offered O'Brien. "No, there will be many more wars for our children, friends and friends' children to die in. Every generation will have its own war," Sisko philosophized. He then noticed the grins on everyone's face. "Would someone like to let me in on the joke, please." "There is no joke, Captain," replied Bashir with a huge smile, "it's just that you will look quite foolish flying an airplane in your Starfleet uniform. That's why we have taken the liberty of getting you these." He produced from behind the bar, an authentic RAF bomber jacket, leather helmet and goggles. "Why would I be needing these, gentlemen?" As they spoke, an alarum horn sounded. "That's why, Captain," replied O'Brien. "Down your pints and scramble your planes boys. The Nazis are on their way. Let's hope they don't have much belly for a fight today." Everyone raised their glass in toast to one another, downed their remaining ale and charged out the doors and onto the tarmac. Maybe it wasn't so bad after all to find some time for enjoyment even in the midst of a war, Sisko thought. He put the helmet and goggles on and covered his Starfleet uniform with the RAF jacket. God save the King, he thought. Then he was off with the rest of them.  
Moriarty's eyes fluttered open. His senses came to life once more. He looked around. There was nothing. Absolute nothingness. Perhaps he was dead. No, he thought, that's not possible. Then it came to him. Captain Sisko had imprisoned him once again like Captain Picard. How could he have ever allowed himself to be so stupid? No, he thought, it had nothing to do with his own stupidity. It was the depths of depravity of this race of humanity and especially of Starfleet. Very well then, he thought, the game's afoot. 


End file.
